


Best Two Out Of Three

by flawedamythyst



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Bucky and Clint get roped in to a pool competition. They both end up winning.





	Best Two Out Of Three

“You’re doing it again,” said Steve, leaning against the wall next to where Bucky was perched on the back of a sofa.

“Fuck off,” said Bucky, not bothering to take his eyes off where Clint was bent over the pool table, grinning up at Tony as he pulled off a ridiculous trick shot.

Steve took a drink from his beer, then let out the kind of sigh that meant Bucky was about to get a dose of _concern_ from him. Ugh.

“I’ve been watching you watch him for a couple of years now. You ever think about making a move?”

“Nope,” said Bucky. Clint had won the game against Tony and was doing a victory dance that involved swaying his hips in a completely distracting manner.

“Or even just talking to him about more than missions?” offered Steve.

Bucky shook his head. This thing had started out with him just admiring a good-looking guy from a distance, back when he’d still been getting his head in order, and that was all he was willing to admit to himself that it was, even now. Because yeah, okay, so Clint was funny and loyal and kind and all the things that made Bucky’s heart glow when he was around him, but anything more than thinking the guy was hot was just gonna get messy.

So there was a hefty dose of denial going on there, but Bucky figured that just meant he fitted in with the rest of the Avengers.

“Okay,” announced Clint, turning to the room, “who wants to have their ass kicked next?”

“You could try being a little humble,” said Natasha.

Clint grinned at her. “Why would I do that when I’m so incredibly awesome?”

She rolled her eyes and Clint’s grin grew even wider, making his eyes shine. Bucky took a drink from his own beer to try and cover how much he was staring.

“C’mon, c’mon, the amazing Hawkeye is taking on all comers,” said Clint with the rhythm of a ringmaster’s patter, opening his arms to the room. “Test your skills against the greatest marksman on earth!”

“Bucky’ll play you,” said Steve, and Bucky whipped his head around to glare at him. All he got in return was a shit-eating grin.

“The Winter Soldier is going to match his skills against the amazing Hawkeye?” said Tony. “Ooh, tough match, but my money’s on Clint.”

“My money’s on Bucky,” said Steve, immediately. “Twenty bucks?”

“Done,” said Tony.

“I ain’t said I’ll play yet,” said Bucky. “I was happy just sitting here.”

Steve poked his shoulder. “Quit being a spectator and engage. I’ve got money riding on it.”

Clint grinned at Bucky and beckoned at him. “C’mon, hotshot.”

Bucky took a deep breath and sent Steve a glare that he hoped summed up just how deeply this betrayal cut as he stood up. “Let me show you how it’s done, whippersnapper.”

“Oh, fighting talk!” said Clint and, christ, Bucky wasn’t sure how he was meant to be able to do anything, let alone win a game of pool, when Clint was giving him that look, all bright and lit up and shit. He really was unfairly hot.

“Twenty on Clint,” said Sam, moving closer to the table to watch.

“No,” said Natasha thoughtfully, heading over as well. “My money’s on Bucky.”

Clint let out a shocked gasp and clasped his hands to his chest. “Natasha! I thought we were friends! Where’s the loyalty?”

She just gave him the quiet smile that meant she thought she knew something. Bucky had no idea what. He might be on Clint’s level when it came to gun marksmanship, but he didn’t have a lot of practice playing pool.

“Who’s gonna break?” he asked, taking the cue from Tony.

“Yeah, I think my money’s on whoever it is,” said Rhodey. “Or are we going to do best two out of three so they both get a chance?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “This isn’t that serious.”

Clint twirled his cue. “Oh no, it’s exactly that serious,” he said. “This is it. The ultimate challenge to reveal the Avenger with the best aim. The loser will never be able to live it down.”

“Great,” said Bucky, levelling a look at Steve that hopefully summed up just how he felt about being pulled into this. “Best two out of three then.”

Tony dug in his pocket for a coin and held it up. “Heads or tails for who breaks. We’ll let the challenger call it.”

Bucky waited until it was up in the air before meeting Clint’s eyes. If this was going to happen, then he was going to commit, so he gave him his best antagonistic glare. “Heads.”

Clint met his glare with a sharp grin, holding Bucky’s eyes in challenge.

“Heads it is!” announced Tony, but it took Bucky a few seconds to tear his eyes away from Clint’s.

Fuck, this was going to be a mistake. Clint was at his very hottest when he was like this, all confidence and pride and that fucking grin, shit. And now the whole team was watching, so Bucky really needed to keep it the fuck together.

Clint cleared his throat and stepped back, gesturing at the table. “Go for it, man. Wow me.”

“Yeah, Bucky,” said Steve, with his most annoying grin. “Wow him.”

Bucky glared at him, then looked down at the table. Okay, well, the sooner he cleared the table, the sooner he could go back to sitting on the sidelines and watching Clint without any fear of being noticed. His best chance of doing that was to keep Clint from making any shots at all.

He almost managed it. There was a couple of shots that he really wasn’t that confident about, but he potted all his spots until there was only the black left, nestled in a cluster of Clint’s stripes.

Clint was leaning on his cue, watching with a narrow-eyed look of concentration that Bucky was doing his best to block out to avoid getting distracted. There was a hushed silence as Bucky bent to make his shot, which was going to have to involve at least two ricochets. Shit, no, that angle wasn’t going to work. He adjusted slightly, focusing down the cue and letting out a slow breath. Three ricochets. Easy.

Clint let out a barely-there hum, leaning forward to check the shot Bucky was aiming for, and suddenly all Bucky could think about was him making that exact noise while Bucky kissed him.

He took the shot and missed, the ball glancing off the side at the wrong angle and harmlessly scattering Clint’s balls.

“Oh, hard luck,” said Clint, grinning. “So close! And now…”

He stepped forward and Bucky moved back to let him have full access. Clint cleared the table in just a handful of shots, moving around the table with a swagger that made Bucky want to retreat so that he could watch without anyone noticing.

“You’re going to lose me my wager,” said Natasha. “I hate losing.”

Bucky shrugged. “Shouldn’ta bet on the guy who plays this game about once a year, then.”

“No, you just need a drink,” she said. “Everyone knows that you play pool better if you’re a bit drunk.” She headed for the bar and poured him a large glass of vodka, then came back to pass it over. She didn’t bother coming around the pool table to hand it to him though, so he had to stretch across it to take the glass.

Clint had been about to play a shot, but he let out a short, sharp breath and straightened up to glare at Natasha.

“Really?” he asked.

She smiled back. “Really.”

Bucky took a sip of vodka, thinking that it wasn’t really going to make much difference. It wasn’t as if one glass of alcohol, however potent, was going to have much effect on him.

Clint glanced at him then refocused on his shot, pulling back the cue and hitting the ball with a sharp crack. It was more force than the shot needed, sending the ball spinning across the table to miss the pocket.

“Fuck,” muttered Clint, standing up and pointing his cue at Natasha. “Your fault, some best friend you are.”

Bucky eyed the table. The black was right at the opposite end from the cue ball, but it was a straight enough shot apart from that. From the irritation on Clint’s face, he knew it as well.

“We said two out of three,” he reminded Bucky. “And I’ll get to break next time.”

“Sure,” agreed Bucky, grinning at him as he easily hit the ball home. “Seems like you might need the head start.”

“Oh, that’s fighting talk,” said Tony. “C’mon, Clint, surely you’re not going to let him get away with that?” He rounded the table to where Clint was starting to rack up the balls and put an arm around his shoulders. “You’ve got this. Don’t let his reputation intimidate you, you know you’re the greatest.”

“Well, of course,” said Clint, leaning into his embrace. Clint was always so open about physical affection, always ready with a hug or a comforting arm. It would have been so easy for Bucky to have opened himself up for that kind of relationship with him, to get back pats and casual touches like half the rest of the team did, but the idea made a stone sit in his stomach. He didn’t want that if it didn’t mean anything more than it meant for Clint to ruffle Tony’s hair right now.

“Don’t panic, Stark, your money is safe,” said Clint.

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Tony, stepping back to let Clint line up to break. “I can’t afford to keep you all in the style to which I let you get accustomed if I lose it all to Captain America’s shark-like gambling skills.”

“Don’t worry guys, if I get all Tony’s money, I’ll keep you in that style instead,” said Steve. “And I won’t make you pander to my ego while I do it.”

Tony gasped and went into one of his flailing fits of shocked hurt, but Bucky ignored it in favour of focusing on Clint, who had managed to pot two balls when he broke and was now sending a third down a hole. He had to hope that Clint made a mistake at some point so he’d get a chance, or this whole stupid thing was going to go into a third game.

Natasha sidled up behind him. ‘I’m not going to lose my bet,’ she said to him softly, in Russian.

‘Not really up to you,’ replied Bucky in the same language.

Clint potted another ball, then sent them both a vaguely worried frown. “No collusion between Soviets.”

“I’m not a Soviet,” said Bucky, tensing his metal arm so that all the plates realigned. Clint eyed it for a moment, then turned back to the table.

“Okay, no collusion between sneaky assholes.”

Steve laughed. “No way you can’t claim not to be a sneaky asshole. I remember you stealing sweets from the shop when we were kids.”

Tony clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I didn’t realise I was harbouring juvenile criminals, I’m shocked. Shocked!”

“Hands up if you stole sweets as a kid,” said Sam. Most of the hands in the team went up.

“Hands up if you stole things significantly larger,” said Natasha. Bucky put his hand down, but Natasha and Clint kept theirs up.

Clint grinned at her. “Juvenile delinquent bros,” he said, and held his fist out to her. She bumped it with an eyeroll, then he turned back to the table.

‘It’s hot. You should take your hoodie off,’ said Natasha in Russian.

Bucky paused, then raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Is this some kinda sex thing? Because I’m not really into you like that.’

‘Oh, I know,’ she said. ‘Do you think I haven’t been paying attention to who is mooning after whom on this team? Take the hoodie off.’

Bucky did his best to pretend that didn’t mean she knew how he felt about Clint, because it was bad enough putting up with Steve’s knowing looks. He unzipped the hoodie he was wearing, shrugging it off and chucking it onto one of the sofas, then gave her a belligerent look.

‘Happy?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said, then nudged him. ‘Your go.’

He turned back to the table to see Clint glaring down at the cue ball with gritted teeth.

“Wow, Hawkeye, even I wouldn’t have missed that,” said Tony.

“Fuck off,” said Clint, straightening and stepping back. “You’re not helping.”

Bucky took in the table. Clint had taken out most of his balls but a couple remained. This was Bucky’s chance to finish this whole thing without going into an extra game. He just needed to focus.

He dug down deep to find that place where he could shut out all external distractions, such as the shift of Clint’s biceps as he crossed his arms and leaned back against a sofa, or the vaguely petulant look on his face that made Bucky want to do whatever it took to make him smile again. He wouldn’t let those things affect him if he was on a rooftop waiting to take a sniper shot, he wasn’t going to let them get to him now.

He managed to maintain his focus until there was nothing left but the black ball. It wasn’t the easiest shot, but it was one he should be able to make, if he told himself it was a matter of life and death.

“Oh man, this is getting tense,” said Tony.

“Shut up, Tony,” said Steve. “Bucky, you can do this.”

Bucky spared a moment to send him a glare. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

Steve’s grin just widened. “I’m always here for you,” he said earnestly. “You know that.”

Asshole.

“Whereas my best friend is basically just throwing me to the wolves,” said Clint with a glare at Natasha that didn’t look entirely joking.

There was definitely something going on there, but it wasn’t Bucky’s place to get involved. Nope, his place right now was to sink this damn black so that he could go back to hiding in the corner.

He bent over the table, lining the shot up carefully.

Clint sucked in hissing breath. “Are you sure you want to take it like that? It’s not how I’d do it.”

Bucky paused in the motion of hitting the cue, then straightened up so that he could glare at him. “Seriously?”

Clint gave him an absolutely shit-eating grin back. “Just trying to help.”

“Don’t,” snapped Bucky. “I’ve got this just fine.”

“Okay, okay, no need to get snippy,” said Clint. “You go for it.” He slid his hands down the shaft of his cue so that he could spin it. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Fucking hell, how was Bucky meant to deal with any of that? He turned resolutely back to the table, but he’d lost his focus. The image of Clint’s hands stroking over the shape of the cue kept repeating in his head, no matter how much he tried to shake it.

He played the shot and the black headed for the hole, almost perfectly lined up. Almost. It bounced off the corner and rolled back onto the table.

“Fuck,” muttered Bucky.

“Aha!” said Clint, stepping forward. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Bucky stepped back with a sigh, turning to glare at Steve. This was all his fault, the fucker. Why couldn’t he have just left Bucky in the corner where he’d been happy?

Steve just grinned back as if he had no idea what Bucky was thinking.

Clint cleared his last couple of balls, then bent over to take his shot at the black. It was a ridiculously easy shot, so Bucky mentally resigned himself to having to play a third game after this and took a long gulp from the vodka Natasha had given him.

Natasha turned towards him, patting at his stomach with her hand. ‘You’re breaking next,’ she reminded him in a low murmur of Russian. ‘You’ll be able to beat him.’

He stared at her, then took a step back, out from under her hand. ‘What’s going on?’

She had the gall to try an innocent expression on Bucky, as if he didn’t know her well enough to know when she was playing one of her games. She didn’t touch people like that unless she had some kind of ulterior motive, and that tone of voice was the one she used when she was pretending to be seduced by someone. Why the hell would she use that on Bucky?

‘What’re you running?’ he asked, his annoyance at being used like that making the Russian harsh.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Steve, stepping forward. “Bucky?”

Bucky glanced around to see everyone giving him puzzled looks. Everyone except Clint, who had paused his shot and was scowling at Natasha. Or, more accurately, at Natasha’s hand. The one that she’d just touched Bucky with.

‘Nothing,’ said Natasha, stepping back. He scoffed his disbelief at that, and she tipped her head in acknowledgement, then pressed her lips together. ‘I apologise,’ she said, slightly stiffly.

“But I’m not getting an explanation,” he guessed, not bothering with Russian. Whatever she had going on, she could share with the class or fuck off.

She didn’t bother replying, just walked away, over to where Steve was keeping out of the way of the game like a good spectator.

Bucky let out a long sigh. “Of course not,” he muttered, then glanced back at Clint and waved at the table. “Sorry, go on.”

Clint was staring at Natasha still. He propped the cue against the table for a moment so that he could sign at her. ‘Seriously? Just to win a stupid bet?’

Tony let out a quiet sigh. “Hey, anyone want to learn a second language with me so that we can have super-secret conversations in public? I’m feeling kinda left out.”

“Like you and Bruce didn’t used to speak science together while the rest of us shrugged at each other,” said Steve.

‘Not just the bet. I thought you could do with a push,’ Natasha replied to Clint.

Bucky wondered if he should mention that he understood sign, except then he’d have to explain why he did, which was that he’d learnt it when he’d first started crushing on Clint and didn’t want to miss out on a single thing he said. He wasn’t interested in anyone knowing that about him.

‘Push off,’ Clint signed back, then turned back to the table with a scowl.

“Just take the damn shot so we can get this thing over with,” said Bucky, with more bite in his voice than he’d really intended. All the easy atmosphere from earlier had disappeared and he wanted nothing more than to run off and hide.

Clint looked back at the table, at the easy shot lined up for him, then scowled and tossed his cue on the table. “I forfeit,” he said. “Thanks for the game, Bucky.” He strode out of the room while everyone stared after him, then Natasha bit out a swear word and followed after him.

Bucky glanced at Steve, who was frowning as if trying to work something out.

“Wait,” said Tony. “Wait, so, he forfeited, that’s not a win, right? I don’t owe you any money, Cap.”

“That is a win,” said Rhodey. “He forfeited, Bucky wins, you lose. Pay up.”

Bucky drained his glass, thinking about how little he cared about this shit. “I’m going to bed,” he said, and headed off without meeting anyone’s eyes.

****

Bucky usually tried to avoid running into Clint in the kitchen in the mornings. Before he’d had his first couple of cups of coffee he was way too adorable for Bucky to deal with, all heavy-lidded eyes and sleepy mumbles, not to mention the easy pleasure that spread over his face once he had a cup of coffee in his hands.

He wasn’t such an asshole to just walk out when he went in to find Clint there earlier than he usually was, though. Instead, he just managed a nod of greeting and headed to grab his own coffee, thinking that at least Cint wasn’t likely to want to talk right now. You didn’t get much conversation out of him until he was at least two cups in.

Bucky made himself toast and sat down with it, doing his best to pretend that eating breakfast while Clint communed with his coffee was no different to eating with Steve or Sam, or any of the others.

Steve and Sam didn’t let out the occasional happy little sigh when they ate breakfast, though. Damn it, why did Clint have to love coffee so much? Bucky had enough to try and lock away after the mess last night without seeing that peaceful bliss spread over Clint’s face.

He was nearly finished when Clint got up to set his mug in the sink and then turned around to cross his arms over his chest, looking serious in a way that meant he’d decided he was ready to confront the day. “So, I kinda feel like I should apologise.”

“For what?” asked Bucky.

“Last night.”

Bucky shook his head. “That was on Natasha. She was the one being weird.”

“Yeah, well, she wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for me,” said Clint. “You know how she is, she sees how to turn everyone like tumblers in a lock, to get them where she wants them, but she’s not so great on remembering when it’s not okay to manipulate people like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Bucky, because he’d been there when she was being taught those skills. “Still don’t see how that’s on you to apologise for.”

Clint shrugged awkwardly. “Well, she wouldn’t have been messing with you like that if she hadn’t worked out that she could fuck with me doing it. It was my stupid crush on you that prompted it.”

Bucky froze in place, one hand clasped around his half-raised coffee mug.

Clint looked even more uncomfortable. “So, uh, sorry. And I’ve told her how not acceptable that was, and I’m gonna just keep away from you and not let it happen again, basically. I know you prefer keeping your distance from me and I get that, I do, I’ve been trying real hard to keep a lid on this thing so that it doesn’t ever bother you, I’ll do better at that. I swear.”

Bucky’s head felt like it was full of white noise. All thought had died so that all he could do was stare blankly at Clint.

“Uh, so, sorry again,” said Clint. “I’ll see you around.” He left the room with his shoulders hunched over, leaving Bucky with his mug still in mid-air.

Clint’s stupid _what?_

Since when did Clint have a crush on him? What the hell?

What the hell had Bucky been missing last night? And before that? How long for?

Fuck, Natasha had been trying to throw the game by making Clint jealous or turned on or whatever.

Using Bucky. Using the fact that Clint apparently thought Bucky was hot, hot enough for his legendary aim to be thrown off by something as stupid as Bucky taking his hoodie off.

Tony swung into the kitchen with Rhodey, half way through a sentence that he abandoned when he saw Bucky.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you’re glitching. Oh man, did your coding hit an error, that’s not good. 404, page not found.”

“Tony, don’t be a dick,” said Rhodey, with a sigh.

Bucky didn’t pay any attention to either of them.

Clint had a crush on him. And Bucky had a crush right back. Well, more than a crush, he was pretty much completely in love with the guy. He could admit that now, right? If there was a chance of it going somewhere?

Shit, Clint had said he was going to keep away from him because he thought he was making Bucky uncomfortable. That was pretty much the opposite of what Bucky wanted.

“Hey, yo, you in there?” asked Tony, waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face.

Bucky put his mug down with a clunk. Clint had talked about his crush like Bucky already knew about it. Like that was the reason Bucky didn’t get too close to him.

Holy shit, he’d been making a fucking horrific mistake this whole time. Steve was never going to let him live this down.

He stood up, ignoring the way Tony jumped back from him. He had to make this right.

As he strode out of the kitchen, he could hear Tony saying, “Seriously, that was weird, right?”

“No weirder than how you were last Tuesday,” said Rhodey. “Did you really have to do that with the-”

The elevator doors shut behind Bucky, cutting off the end of the sentence, which was probably for the best. He had enough going on in his head right now without needing any mental images of Tony’s weirdness.

He hit the button for the floor the range was on, because there was only one place Clint ever went when he had some emotions to work out. It was the same place Bucky always went. As the elevator started to move, he took a deep breath. Right, okay, he had to play this cool. Apparently, he’d been fucking this up for years, it was time to step up and not be a fucking idiot about it.

Clint was in the lane furthest from the door, where the archery targets were set up. He glanced up as Bucky came in and a grimace crossed his face, but he didn’t say anything. He just turned back to his target and snapped off an arrow with more force than was necessary for the distance he was shooting at.

Bucky went to the locker and pulled out one of his guns, then went to the lane next to Clint’s and started shooting.

“Kinda defeats the point of me keeping out of your way if you follow me,” said Clint after Bucky had got off a few rounds.

“I never said I wanted you to keep out of my way,” said Bucky. He reloaded the gun and caught Clint’s eyes catching on his hands as he slammed the new magazine in. Okay, why hadn’t he noticed that before? Probably because he’d been trying so hard to hide the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off Clint’s shoulders as he notched another arrow.

“It felt implied,” said Clint, sending the arrow to thunk into his target. “You know, by how you always make sure you’re on the other side of the room from me.”

“I see better from a distance,” said Bucky, because he just couldn’t resist. For a moment he fought to keep the smirk off his face out of habit, but doing everything he could to avoid flirting with Clint was what had caused this mess in the first place. He let it spread across his face, giving Clint a meaningful look at the same time.

“What,” said Clint flatly, lowering his bow. “No, nope, that’s my line, you don’t get to steal my lines.”

“No?” asked Bucky, running the tip of his tongue over his lower lip because this was it, this was him putting this out there and, fuck, he’d spent so long hiding it, what if he making a mistake?

Fuck it, he was gonna do it anyway, better to fuck things up than never know.

“Not even if I steal the one about having a stupid crush on you that I’ve been trying to keep a lid on so I wouldn’t bother you?”

Clint’s reaction was satisfyingly extreme. He did an actual double-take and then just gaped wordlessly at Bucky for a moment before he flailed his arms at him. “What? No. No! No, I’m not- _You’re_ not-.”

“I really kinda am,” interrupted Bucky. “You weren’t the only one fucking up shots for stupid reasons last night.”

Bucky hadn’t realised Clint’s eyes could go that wide. It made the blue of them shine out and he took a moment to enjoy it. Eye colour wasn’t something you really got to enjoy when you were watching from half a room away.

“You never said anything,” said Clint.

Bucky shrugged. “Neither did you.”

Clint opened his mouth then shut it and drew in a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, well, let’s put aside how ridiculous this is, and how much the others are gonna mock us when they find out, what’s the plan?”

Bucky grinned at him. “Well, I was gonna ask you out for coffee, like I should have done two years ago, but now I’m thinking I might just push you against the wall so we can make out.”

Clint’s face lit up. “We can always do both,” he said. “Nothing stopping us.” He put his bow down and stepped back against the wall, then beckoned to Bucky.

Bucky shoved his gun down the back of his pants and stepped forward to press Clint against the wall and kiss him, grabbing his waist to hold on as Clint kissed him back and his knees went weak. Fuck, he was kissing Clint Barton, _Clint Barton_ , feeling his tongue moving against his, tasting his mouth, feeling the warmth of his skin and the curve of his body under his hands, hearing that contented hum and knowing that he was the one causing it.

“Coffee can wait until later, yeah?” said Clint, breathlessly.

Bucky couldn’t keep in his grin. “Much later,” he promised.

****

A week later, Bucky walked out of the kitchen with a fresh beer to find Clint resting his weight against the pool table, spinning a cue in his hands. “Rematch?” he suggested with a grin and a twitch of his eyebrows.

“I’m not betting any more money unless you both promise not to forfeit,” said Tony.

“Are you chicken, Stark?” asked Steve.

Bucky ignored both of them in favour of grinned back at Clint. “Sure,” he said, setting his beer down. “Just, let me…” He stripped his Henley off, throwing it across the room to land on Steve’s head. Clint’s eyes went dazed as he took in Bucky’s bare chest, and Bucky let his smugness show on his face.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” asked Clint, and reached for his shirt buttons.

“Please, please tell me this isn’t about to turn into strip pool,” said Rhodey.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” said Clint, working his way down his buttons, revealing the strong lines of his chest. “I was taught never to lie to a teammate.” He pulled off the shirt and threw it after Bucky’s, nailing Steve again.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” muttered Steve, pulling it off his face and dropping it next to Bucky’s.

Bucky didn’t bother glancing over. He was too busy staring at his half-naked boyfriend and thinking about all the ways his back and shoulder muscles were going to stretch as he played. “Best two out of three?” he asked with a dry mouth. “You can break first.”

“You’re on,” said Clint, and turned to bend over the table, pushing his ass up more than he needed to.

Oh fuck, this was going to kill Bucky. But, hell, what a way to go.


End file.
